
Class ^^353 1 
Book. ^/ l7/^ 7 



CQEflUCHT DEPOSIT. 



MOVE ON 



By 

Marion Selby Parsons 




L. C. McC>aN. Th 



ifi' 



V 



Copyright, 1920 
By Marion Selby Parsons 



Ao76018 



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Preface. 



The ever-constant moving force 

That builds a monument unto 

The highest aim, the grandest thought 

Of any age is silent, 

For it has no voice — 

It cannot warn the innocent — 

Move on ! 

Our monument was built unto 

The God of Liberty and Hope, 

Within its shadows we must move. 

If innocent of better things. 

And our great monument must fall. 

It will be written of us then: 

"They worshiped at the Shrine of Hope ; 

They labored for humanity ; 

And, while they worked their god was true, 

And filled their hearts with earnest hope." 



2 Poems by Marion Selby Parsons 

REQUITAL. 

If, by the light to me revealed, 
Mine eyes should see some noble deed 
By man performed of his free will, 
To some misguided wretch in need. 
And from my heart there came no wish 
To praise the man who did this deed, 
Or take him by the hand and say: 
"This work shall live another day," 
Then, by the Power that rules the Earth, 
My soul will sink to lowest depths, 
And nothing come to- cause my eyes 
To see again such pleasant sights. 
And darkness come with me to dwell. 
Till from my heart some voice shall say: 
"I knew 'twas good, but passed it by ; 
I've lost the light, hear my cry!" 



If, by the Light to me revealed, 
Mine eyes should see dishonest deeds 
By man performed of his free will. 
To somie misguided wretch in need, 
And from my heart there came no wish 
To tell the world what I had seen. 
And shout a warning to mankind : 
"Beware of men who work like this!" 
Then all the thieves will 'round me come. 
And slimy serpents o'er me crawl, 
With fiery eyes and hissing tongue ; 
Abide with m.e and all of mine. 
Till from the depths of Misery 



Requital l 

My soul shall wake to Duty's call, 

And with my voice proclaim aloud: 

"Such deeds are false — beware of them!" 

For well I know that men with light, 

Who have been blessed with power to know 

The inward wishes of a man, 

By what his outward actions show. 

Must stand rebuked, or blessed, as may 

Their hearts respond to deeds of man. 

And for their portion take their pay 

In things dealt out as pay to them. 



LOVE'S LABOR. 

From rankest humus in the soil 
Springs up the sweetest, purest rose. 

From sacrifice and honest toil 
The purest, grandest feeling grows. 

Move on! 
The New World is but slightly touched. 
The Old World has been purified. 
The rose that blooms for her must be 
Far sweeter than the rose that grows 
Among the thistles and the thorns 
Untouched by toil, unwatered by 
The falling tears of deep regret 
Upon decaying Error's plain. 
Move on — lest gratitude and trust 
Shall turn to hatred and disgust. 



4 Poems by Marion Selby Parsons 

MOVE ON! 

The all-controlling wish of Man 

For happiness and peace on earth 

Combined and centered, 

Riveted and sure, since Time began. 

The eyes, the soul, the heart. 

The life of all, fixed and unchangeable, 

Growing more and more intense. 

Making gods to rule, casting them away. 

Then seeking, praying, fighting to death. 

Building, wrecking, building again. 

And all, that Happiness might come. 

Move on ! 
With shame, the ignorance. 
The utter lack of wisdom shown. 
Will place this age among the list 
For which the Veil of Darkness came 
To shield the errors of the past. 
When men have learned that happiness 
Cannot be found by any man 
Among the misery and grief 
Abroad and all around. 
They will not need another god! 



A League of Nations 

A LEAGUE OF NATIONS. 

A League of Nations — let it be, 
And let its name be Liberty ! 
Proclaim this law throughout the earth, 
Unto the mothers that give birth 
Unto the Lordly, boasting sire 
Of sons to lift this banner higher : 
You shall not breed another race. 
And teach it not to boldly face 
The selfish hosts that break the gates 
of Hell and overrun the earth 
At any time there is a dearth 
Of manhood to defend the right. 
The Book of Wisdom must contain 
A rule of action and sustain 
The right of every man to choose, 
\¥ith penalties and chance to lose, 
His life if he should choose to fight 
For what his conscience says is right. 
And if he will not sure defend 
The law on which his hopes depend, 
The soul of Liberty is dead. 
And all the blood that has been shed 
To raise that banner to the sky 
Was shed in vain. 



The ignorance there is on earth 
Is born again with every birth. 
And that great banner, raised on high 
To meet the gaze of every eye 
That opens to the light of day, 



6 Poems by Marion Selby Parsons 

Should bear this sign and boldly say : 
"Inherent forces and the laws 
That now exist on earth because 
Each moment brings another life 
To join the never-ending strife 
For sustenance and place to move, 
Have formed for you a certain groove. 
The space is narrow, and the walls 
Are high, but you will hear the calls 
Of sore distress, and you will long 
For liberty, or you will plod 
Your narrow way and pray to God 
For strength to bear your wretched lot. 
Till Misery has been quite forgot. 



Gaze on this picture deep and long, 
For you must gather which is wrong 
By tasting of the fruits they bear. 
As you grow old and bowed with care. 
But this remember every day, 
As strength and vision fade away. 
That all of Life, and all of Death, 
Is not the passing of a breath — 
That he who feeds the Brute must talk 
The language of the Brute and walk 

And seek the haunts of Selfishness. 
That he who lives a single day 
To walk the brightly-lighted way 
Of Liberty, and feels the right 
To strangle Littleness, and fight 
The battles of the weak, will live — 
Has lived — and will always give 



A League of Nations 

To frail humanity the strength 
To overcome, and will at length 
Redeem the world from selfishness 
And all its forms of littleness." 



Far in the long-forgotten past 

The brand of liberty was cast 

Upon the earth, and still it burns 

A warning to the man that turns 

To any god— to any hope — 

That limits Freedom and the scope 

In which the mind and thought may soar 

Upon the lofty wings that bore 

The souls of men who changed the face 

Of this old earth, and cleared the space 

In which we live till now we boast 

The right to name for all the host 

Of men who live the rule of right. 

Choose now the way that you will go, 

And vow to render blow for blow, 

For Liberty — to be a man 

By all the measures and the plan 

That make you free to choose to be 

A selfish brute, a pleading tool — 

Or neither — just a man, without 

The slightest fear or doubt 

That you will ever earn a thing 

That now or far remote will bring 

As recompense a little thing, 

Just fit for brutes and begging tools, 

For stupid, idle, shallow fools! 



8 Poems by Marion Selby Parsons 

MOVE ON! 

The heart of man responds in turn 

To Fear and Hate, to Love and Hope. 

To Fear that, when Tomorrow's sun 

Shall set, and all his world grow dark. 

He has no place to lay his head. 

And, driven out by this strange fear, 

He views the rest of all mankind 

With jealous eye, and in his soul 

He hates the man who has a place 

Of safety from the Fear of Want, 

And sinks still deeper in despair 

Till Love and Hope are gone, and then — 

Ah ! Who can paint the picture as it is ? 

The w^orld has waited now for centuries 

To welcome him — 

To see the picture painted true. 

Till every man can feel the guilt 

Upon his soul for all the part 

He played in any game that placed himself 

Beyond the Fear of Want, 

And drove his brother to Despair — 

Move on ! 
Perhaps a little farther on 
We may be free from Fear, and then 
All Hate will disappear, and Love • 
Will be the Anchor of a Life. 



The World War. 9 

THE WORLD WAR. 

December, 1914. 

Come, let us go and view the war 
That rages on the Other Side, 
And, while we view it, cast aside 
As worthless trash the sentiment 
That sickly souls hold up to view 
And loudly cry, "Most horrible!" 
For we must know that all things move 
In perfect harmony with the Cause, 
And cannot stop or turn aside, 
Tho' toolish men bring all they have — 
Their lives, their wealth, their hopes, and all. 
And cast them down as sacrifice 
To stop the tide. 

Far back upon the winding path 
That man has traveled in the maze 
Of sad and strange uncertainties. 
He thought to raise great monuments. 
To build them well, so strong and high, 
That Time nor Force could them destroy. 
And in this way he builded well. 
For evidence, though mute and still, 
Stands yet to mock the men who gave 
Their lives, their wealth, their hopes, and all, 
To mark their greatness ere they fell. 
But Time m.oved on, and races came 
That scorned those solid monuments. 
And sought to build another way. 
Till on the face of this great earth 
There came a race that boasted loud : 
"Most civilized of all the hosts 



10 Poems by Marion Selby Parsons 

That ever lived upon the earth." 
And that great race began to build, 
Not monuments of wood and stone, 
But kingdoms, classes, grades of men. 
Most wonderful — 
Beyond compare, the mighty work 
Achieved by them, as pile on pile 
Ascended high the structure grand, 
Entwined around and woven in 
Like silken cords they placed the threads 
Of honest thought, and for the rest 
Of that great pile they thought to use 
The basest kind of selfishness. 
But, as the days gave way to years, 
And Time his heavy hand had placed, 
Decay began among the fruits 
Of selfishness, and from that pile 
The echo came as prone it lay 

Within the dust: 
"There is no rule or law that gives 
To any man or nation free 
The right to hold without defense 
Advantage gained by cunningness 
Or otherwise ; but, rather, must 
The favored one be more exposed 
To strong attacks from those whose lives 
Are burdened by the mighty load 
Of their own share, and that of those 
Whose stations are removed and far 
From dread of Hunger and Distress." 



Now, as we gaze upon the scene. 



The World War 11 

And watch them waste themselves away, 
Like all great errors of the past 
Have done before, we must not lose 

Full consciousness. 
But we must feel that danger lies 
Not only in the wake of shells 
That burst and spread the fire of Death, 
For in the atmosphere that wraps 
This mighty struggle in its folds, 
A subtle poison is infused. 
That shapes the sentiment of all 
Who come within the poison zone. 
And if we are to view it well. 
We must not fall a victim 
Of the false pretense put out to mold 

A good defense. 
You ask: "What need at all they have 
To offer facts or evidence. 
To prove the justness of their cause? 
Are they not yet the ruling force 
Of all the earth?" 
'Tis true they occupy the stage. 
The closing scene of any act 
Is interesting, and always watched 
Until the end, and if our thought 
Was only this, to watch the show, 
We might concede the proven fact: 
They do it well, but when 'tis done. 
And that deep voice that speaks to worlds 
In thunder tones is heard to say ; 
"Move on, you foolish men of earth I" 
Who, then, think you, will take the lead? 
Do you suppose that it will be 



12 Poems by Marion Selby Parsons 

Some giant great, made fat upon 

The Food that made these nations sick? 

"But what of peace ? Will it not come 

To save the day?" 
Most fatal poison of them all, 
For we are lulled to sleep by it, 
And sleeping, dream the strangest dreams 
Suggested by the hope, the wish — 
A hope that brands us baser still 
Than all the hosts that Time has placed 
Behind the screen of darkest past. 
For Love and Peace dwell not with us, 

Who dream this dream. 
Our souls are filled with mortal fear 
Lest, when another day shall come. 
We have no place to lay our heads; 
And, driven cut by that strange fear, 
We battle, fight, destroy, and kill. 
And trample down the weaker ones 
Till, standing free from fear of v/ant. 
We raise our voice and cry for peace. 
Ah ! Fatal dream that comes to us 
Who drink this poison cup of hope. 
And sleep the sleep of righteous peace. 
Do you believe that peace like this 
Is born of Love, and can abide 
The test of Time? You answer, "No." 
Then why debate — is it not clear 
That 'twixt this day and that good time 
When lasting peace will come to earth. 
There lies a thousand years or m.ore? 
Why seek to stop by cunningness 
The mighty movement of the world 



The World War 13 

Toward a final peace on earth? 
"Disarm!" you say. Why think of this? 
Is fighting o'er? Must every man 
Be now content to bear 'till death 

The lot he has? 
'Tis safer far to arm the sons 
Of this great age, and bid them fight. 
For never since the dawn of Time 
Began to light the minds of men 
With power to judge of right and wrong, 
Has there appeared a race so fit 
To battle for a lasting peace. 
To count it all most terrible, 
And measure every moan that comes 
From lips that speak no more in words. 
Seems fitting when we stand within 
The very shadow of it all. 



But who will try to count the lives 
That will be lost betwixt this time 
And that great day when peace will come. 
If kings and potentates are called 
Upon to fix the day that they 
Will share their fortunes with the serf? 
The atmosphere ! Beware of it : 
'Tis like the hour that does precede 
The dawn of day, the darkest hour 
Of all the night, and, while it last, 
Full many a phantom will appear. 
The mighty men of all the earth 
Will scatter crumbs among the poor. 
The Kings will cry: "The Fatherland! 



14 Poems by Marion Selby Parsons 

To arms, you faithful sons of this 
Thy fathers' land before you lived!" 
And many gods will be invoked 
By worshipers to intervene. 
And each strange phantom will remain 
To curse the time that it appeared, 
Until destroyed by War and Death. 
And yet, think you, that all the men 
That ever lived, or yet shall come 
To live upon this great, old earth 
Are doomed to death and base decay? 
Canst only this, thy anxious mind 
Encompass well? Doth nothing say 
In even faintest whispers low. 
That man must rise to put behind 
Each fatal thing that speaks of death, 
'Till on him bursts the shining light. 
To make it plain the only way 
That man can go and live in peace? 



LIFE. 

He thought to crush the reed of life. 
To use the sap when life was old, 

Only to find the reed destroyed, 
And sap and all turned into mould. 



The Purse of Gold 15 

THE PURSE OF GOLD. 

Bring out the golden harp and play 
That ever-tuneful sounding lay, 
Of Man's undying faith and trust 
In Wealth and Power, Pride and Lust. 
Louder ! Ye sons of Mother Earth ! 
It seems to me there is a dearth 
Of music in your tune today. 
Do you not hear that splendid lay 
By yon poor player on the way ? 
You cannot p^ay so grand a tune — 
Has all your power gone so soon? 
It seems to me but yesterday 
I heard a million voices say: 
"On golden wings we sail along. 
And sing the grandest, sweetest song." 
And all the world bowed down to gold. 
Now, by the powers I am told, 
That poverty and greatest need 
Must scatter truth, and still the more 
Just when my heart is sick and sore, 
And dreadful storms around me break — 
I plead with you, for mercy's sake. 
To calm the storm and ease the pain. 
Your answer is : "That splendid strain 
Cannot be played on golden strings. 
It is the tune that Virtue brings." 
Here ! Take these millions, if you may, 
And in my name, approaching say 
To yon poor player : "Ah, behold ! 
My master sends a purse of gold." 



16 Poems by Marion Selby Parsons 

THE MUSE. 

Ah, transient Muse, how swift you are, 

Leaping- from Earth unto a Star, 

Never content to stay awhile 

To let me catch your sweetest smile, 

Or hold you here on Earth to show 

How wonderful it is to know 

This strange, old Earth, and all her whims. 

And write it down in prose and hymns. 

For mortal man to read and sing. 

Till on your light and lofty wing 

He, too, may raise above the things 

That bow his head, which slowly brings 

An end to all his hopes at last. 

When life's long, stormy days are passed. 



DECEPTION. 

There is no man so dense as he 
Who to himself no fault applies. 

There is no man so base as he 

Who covers faults with baser lies. 

Move on ! 

The false pretense you practise now. 
The lies you tell with confidence, 
Are open books that children read 
And understand, and form parades 
To mock you at your little work. 



Shadows 17 

SHADOWS. 

There is beauty, hght, and gladness, 
There is tensity and madness. 
There is sorrow, grief, and sadness 

In the faces that I see. 
And I drink the cup of sorrow. 
Feel the madness in my morrow. 
And of gladness seem to borrow 
As the faces stare at me. 

PRETENSE. 

When each grade of life assembled 

Into organized existence, 

Out of a chaos of matter 

Before the beginning of man. 

And each grade had assumed its place 

In order of its importance 

To the whole, completing the world 

Of moving, material things, 

Nothing was left, and nothing changed. 

But Time had begun and the world 

Was complete — not an error there ! 

And over the face of its broad expanse 

It moved in perfect harmony. 

Until a Stranger came to live upon the earth. 

And there proclaimed a Law, 

Separate and distinct 

From all the Laws that ruled the earth. 

From whence this Stranger came 

I have my views, which matters not. 

But there was found no place for Him. 



18 Poems by Marion Selby Parsons 

And since that day his work has been 
To find a place where He might five 
In harmony and peace within, 
Among the elements of earth. 

Move on ! 
You poor, benighted man, 
Your last attempt at happiness 
That seeks to turn the world aside, 
And punish all the earth that you 
May live in peace is foolishness. 
If wisdom you possess, and you 
Should now begin to see the way, 
You will forget the false pretense 
That you have always owned the earth. 



LIFE IN DEATH. 

If all the social planes were fixed. 

And all the economic life moved 'round 
In cycles like the sun. 

And in a period of time found endings 
Where they first begun, 

There still would be no cause to weep — 
Move on ! 
P^or, in your mind there is a thought, 
And in your soul there is a wish 
To climb — to soar above the sphere 
You occupy, and this is proof. 
And positive that, somewhere 
In the sphere of life not after death, 
There is a broader, higher plane. 



Despair 19 

DESPAIR. 

The mighty avalanche that pours 

Its flood of grief and woe 

Upon a world of ignorance 

Is but the ponderous weight of Error, 

Set in motion by the law of Recompense, 

To which we all subscribe and 

Swear allegiance. 
And when the time arrives to take 
Our place upon the battlefield of life. 
Our armor is the thought 
That we shall earn as recompense 
For all the labor of our days 
A quiet place of honor 'mong 
The heroes we have met and fought. 

Move on! 

It was a dream you had. 

Your quiet place is all beset by misery, 

And you must hear the wail of grief 

From some poor soul. 

Whose life is all but trampled out. 

And ghosts of errors you have made 

Invade your quiet domicile, 

And scream at you till you awake. 

And then, behold, far in advance 

Of that small world you occupied 

A host of men with banners bright, 

On which you read: 

"Death to the rule of Might ! 

Long live Humanity!" 

And, as your soul sinks deeper in Despair, 



20 Poems by Marion Selby Parsons 

When your frail limbs refuse to carry 

You into the fight, 

The light of truth appears and 

You can understand the ignorance 

That leads you out into a field, 

A barren waste, to spend your strength 

In search of happiness, and you 

Will be amazed to find that while 

You dreamed the world did not. 



THE OLD AND THE NEW. 

The Old gives up to the New today. 
Tomorrow the New Is Old. 
And the tears that are shed 
For the Old that is dead 

Gave life to the New 
On the day it is wed 
To the World, in its glad array. 

Only the souls that cling to the Old 

Are barred from the wedding feast. 
For they mourn all the day. 
As they earnestly pray 
For the world to stop, 
And cease to be gay, 
While they gather their crop of mould. 



The Soldier 21 

THE SOLDIER. 

Save your praise for the man who weaves, 

And must change his wares for gold — 
I fought that liberty might be yours, 

And my wares must not be sold. 
Barter you may with all the things 

That I bought you with my blood, 
But do not measure my motive pure 

By a service sign or a word. 
You may play at politics and later print 

A picture of all that you do. 
But when you shall think to cheapen me. 

That the price may come to you, 
It is more than the common fool should dare, 

It is baser than the meanest lies. 
And the price is far too much to pay. 

For the poor little thing it buys. 



MOVE ON! 

The seed of life immortal came 
From seething furnaces of grief ; 

From leaping, roaring sheets of flame 
That melted pride and unbelief. 

That left untouched the law of right, 

That humbled loudly boasted Might. 

High on the altar that it raised 
There will be placed the ashes of 
The last remains of many boasts 
And costly armor built to save 



22 Poems by Marion Selby Parsons 

Unholy forms from perishing — 

Move on! 

Select the sacrifice that you 
Will offer up, tho' all untouched 
By that great fire that purified 
The first decaying remnant of 
A mighty host across the sea, 
That you may also find a place 
Among the purified by grief, 
And prove your right to live 
Without the torch ! 



THE LONG ROAD. 

It seems like a living thing. 
This Phantom clothed in spotless white, 
That comes to us in dreams by night. 
And seeks to lead us on to right 
And peaceful living here on earth — 

Move on ! 

The animal in man will breed 
A billion sons for slaughter 
Ere we see the light. 
Our dreams have ended at the place 
Where we must change our raiment for 
This spotless robe of purest white. 
And, as we waken at the thought. 
We murmur and accuse and boast, 
And prove our littleness again. 



Darkness 23 

DARKNESS. 

Ever, still ever, the moments are passing, 
Drifting away to the great Sea of Time, 

That lies in the past of a world that is moving 
Ever and onward to things more sublime. 

Why mourn for the hours we have spent in error, 
Crowning the Kings of a Frenzied Finance? 

The wisdom of old, and the times of terror, 
Flirted alike with the fortunes of chance. 

They lost, and the shades of eternal blackness 
Have gathered them all to their cold embrace. 

To have and to hold, for the Shades of Darkness 
Were made for a veil to cover their space. 

We lost, for the Phantom we chased has perished 
Like values of old, it has faded away, 

And left us to mourn for a hope once cherished. 
That bloomed for a while, then sank to decay. 

Shall it, then, be written on History's pages: 
"They worshipped a god so base and so low, 

Tho' boasting the wisdom of saints and of sages. 
One error, its punishment, laid them all low?" 

Or, shall we arise in Phcenix-like fashion, 
Up out of the dust of Error's decay. 

To cari-y the Flag of our glorious Nation 
Higher, still higher, and plant it to stay ? 



24 Poems by Marion Selby Parsons 

CONCLUSION. 

When war is o'er, and the world 
Shall rest in peace, and every man 
Can feel that he is safe from harm 
That rises out of selfishness, 
The sword will be a useless tool. 
Till then, and 'haps the way is long. 
Each step toward that day will be 
Through fire and war, and misery 
From ignorance, the lash that drives. 

Move on! 
The wisdom you pretend, and do possess, 
Uncrystalhzed, might save you 
Many a futile step, if, in the days 
That try your soul, you could forget 
A measure of that selfishness — 
At least that part that leads you 
To forget the rights and happiness 

Of those around. 
You know how sure it is that men 
Will fight and nations war when they 
Have reach'd the time their interests clash. 
That blood will flow until defeat 
Has come to one, that death will be 
The price of every step you take. 
Because you will not understand. 



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